I debated writing this. Number one, I'm on
an insane dosage of pain meds so my mind is not what it normally is. Number two, I've been suffering double vision and it has made even bringing a cup to my mouth feel like an Olympian feat. However the point of this blog is to be truthful and open at all times. So there will be mess ups and Spelling mistakes because that is what life is like right now.
for those unaware, I had emergency surgery Wednesday morning. I knew my pain was increasing at a rapid rate and by Tuesday evening it was some of the worst pain I've ever experienced. I immediately thought intestinal blockage because I had read that type of blockage can be quite painful.
Okay, screw this. Writing is too heard. Voice to text writing commence now:
I had surgery Wednesday morning at the University of Pennsylvania. The goal of the surgery was just to reroute intestines I had been blocked. There is a slight chance of having my tumor removed but that wasn't the primary goal. It turns out my pain is actually caused by swelling appendix. So in the end I had my appendix removed, a lot of my of my colon, I think some of my intestines but I don't remember, and that giant ass tumor.
I'm in a great amount of pain. I haven't eaten since Tuesday. I have double vision extreme soreness in all my joints and I've lost about 3 pounds in sweat alone. Half the time I don't make sense because I'm so sleep deprived from being in the hospital. I'd give anything to poop and make this stay a much shorter one. The mental toll of not seeing my kids, especially not being there for Sam, is unreal and I'm crying as I write this because of it.my family looked absolutely terrified the beginning of the week, but now they look more at ease and understand the very long road ahead of me in terms of healing. I still can't believe the tumor is gone. I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up and that this is all a dream.
Not having the ability to eat or drink for days on end is one of the worst experiences I've ever had in my entire life.last night I was allowed fluids for the first time. It was a cup of apple juice that I had to sip over the course of 6 to 9 hours. I loathe apple juice. But it was one of the greatest drinks I've ever had. Today I received a small cup of broth. It was better than any filet mignon I'd ever had. I will never take broth for granted again. To be able to feed myself and experience the taste of warm salt water was beyond gratifying.
That's all I can do for now.
Theolder kids are coming to visit in an hour. It will be bittersweet but I can't wait to see their faces. I spoke with Sam on the phone tonight. She told me what a cow says and sang the Wheels on the Bus with me. She only sings the "all" in the song. I get so excited when her part of the song comes up. I sang twinkle little star and lost it. It was both physically and mentally painful. Tears hurt on many levels.
okay I'm really done.
Thanks for all those helping out or asking to help out. I'll keep you updated.
i love you all.

It's that time of year. Stores are flooded with school supplies, my kids are deep into their summer reading, and I'm being hounded about clothes and shoe shopping from a certain teenager.
This marks new beginnings.
Emily will be entering the world of high school while Will also starts a new venture into middle school. New teachers, new buildings, new curriculums.
And in a way, I am also going back to school. I've spent the last year and a half learning the ins and outs of chemotherapy. I have mastered the routine, gained an immense knowledge about all of the various treatments I was on, and learned various techniques to combat side effects.

But now I move on to a new curriculum: Radiation.
I've spent so much time with chemotherapy that I haven't invested any time or energy learning about radiation. To be fair, it hasn't been mentioned as a treatment until very recently. The reason for the radiation is to try and shrink the cantaloupe sized tumor taking up residence in my abdomen. It is the main source of all my pain and radiation should hopefully shrink and kill almost all of its cancerous cells.
The last month has been a standstill. My platelet counts were so low that I needed a few weeks just to let them catch up. White blood cells were low too. Basically, my bone marrow is beat up from all of the chemo. I've also met with two different surgeons to see if they would be willing to remove the large tumor. Both of them wouldn't entertain the idea. Surgery is too risky. Besides creating a major delay on the next treatment, surgery would require removing a lot of my bowels and possibly leave me with a colostomy bag. And the tumor could also be attached to other organs which would result in cutting into other areas leaving me susceptible to complications. One surgeon agreed with radiation while the other cautioned against it saying it would likely cause damage to the bowels that are resting on top of the tumor. Two varying opinions is a cancer patient's worst nightmare. So that left me to meet with radiation oncology. This doctor convinced me to go ahead with radiation. When I mentioned the opposing viewpoint he bluntly said: if you don't take care of this tumor it will keep growing and cause damage to my bowels and other organs. I was sold.
Treating cancer is a full time job. Well you don't get paid and the hours suck but there is some form of routine and familiarity with office visits, treatments, and side effects. But now that treatment has changed I feel like I'm starting a new job and I have no experience.

So far this has been my learning experience:
-According to my doc, my main side effects will be nausea and fatigue. He warned that the fatigue will get worse with each week and linger well past treatment.
-Treatment is now 5 days a week for about 4 to 6 weeks. This will definitely take a toll on my patience and will power. Driving to Philly every day will suck hard but before you ask, I refuse to go locally. UPenn is one of the few hospitals that has a specific proton therapy machine. It has proven to be more effective and causes less damage to surrounding organs. So Philly it is.
-I am not out of the chemotherapy woods yet. I will still be receiving chemotherapy during radiation. It is actually not used to fight the cancer but to enhance the radiation effects. It will be a much lower dose than usual. Too much chemo would make me toxic.
-Tattoos are in. I went to get a cat scan that they will use to line me up for zapping. I had no idea that they have to tattoo little dots on your body to help line up the machine. They are tiny dots made with Indian ink and a needle. Not much different from the crappy home made tattoo I had in high school. They are permanent but luckily they look like little freckles. I'd prefer a much more intricate tattoo but these will do for now.
-I am completely unfamiliar with the radiation routine. Doctors and staff have given me the basics of what it will be like but just like chemo, I won't really understand it until I see for myself. -I feel like a stranger in the radiation department. At this point my chemo floor is like Cheers. Everybody knows my name. That's not necessarily a good thing because it shows how much time I spend there, but it still is nice to be greeted with a smile and a "Hi Mrs. Raney" or a nurse or doctor asking how the kids are.
-This whole experience is not too different from the woes of a teacher who has to teach a completely new curriculum. I just need to stay a little ahead. I need enough knowledge to get me through a few days at a time and eventually I will get the hang of it.

I would be lying if I didn't say that I'm scared. Change is hard for most people but especially for cancer patients. My thoughts shift from "how much more can my body possibly take" to "is this going to be worse than chemo"?
However, I am chomping at the bit to get started. The days are dragging until I start next week. Next Wednesday couldn't come soon enough. What's causing all of this eagerness, you ask? PAIN! So much pain. Chemo may not have put a big dent in my tumors but it always helped rid me of pain. Now that I haven't been on treatment for a month, the pain has come back with a vengeance.
Mr. Cantaloupe and a small friend cause all of my pain. It is excruciating. I can't laugh, cough, or sneeze. I can't wear anything that doesn't have a soft elastic waistband. The skin on my abdomen feels like what I imagine shingles to feel like. I can physically feel the growths pushing against my muscle and it's awful. And throughout the day I get pains that feel like hot needles being pushed through my belly. Luckily, I now have a pain management team working with me. They are great. They want me to take more meds than I am already taking, but they know I won't. I can't. I still have a family to raise. I can't be hopped up on painkillers and taking care of a baby. I just have to deal with it and it truly sucks. These last few days the pain has rapidly increased. I used to be able to hide it well when people were over our house. I can't anymore.
Sam accidentally kicked my belly a few nights ago. The pain was unbearable and lasted for hours. It's the first time I cried. I think I just fear it getting worse over the next week and I'm not sure how strong I can be. So even though I've had a long respite from chemo, I still can't do much because of my pain.
So this is why I'm ready.
It's time to go back to school.

Birthday
​Today is my birthday. I am 39. I should be ecstatic. I made it to 39! But my brain isn't working like that. It's more fixated on the thought, "Will I make it to 40? Is this a pipe dream or a possible reality?" I don't know, but I know I can't shake the thought.
I think what's adding to the glass half empty attitude is the rough few months I just had. I tried a version of my original chemo. I tolerated it well except for my blood cells and platelets. I missed two weeks due to low blood counts and even now I haven't had treatment in almost 2 weeks and my platelets are still extremely low.
I had two major issues with this chemo:
Exhaustion. I slept my days away. Even now my legs are jelly and lifting a gallon of milk can be challenging at times. Thus, lifting a 25 pound baby is a major issue.
I had a lot of help. People were here everyday to take care of Sam and let me sleep. But I would lay in bed and feel like a bystander to my life. I could hear the kids downstairs and I felt so separated. I also felt extremely useless.
The second issue was the mental exhaustion. The constant fog made simple tasks seem impossible. Paying bills, responding to text messages, and forget writing. I wouldn't call it writer's block. It's more like I was physically blocked from writing. I'd like to say I feel so much better, but I'm still weak and exhausted. I'm at least trying to change my mindset and tell myself that I am getting stronger.

Options
I saw my doctor on Monday to review my latest scan results. Basically all of the smaller tumors remained stable but the big ass tumor in my abdomen is still rapidly growing. So the conversation has changed and now the focus is this tumor. There is debate about cutting off its blood supply, completely removing it, or they may decide to leave it be. Who knows. There is still discussion about immunotherapy drugs but currently there are no clinical trials running in any major area hospitals so I would have to qualify for compassionate care in order to receive them. And that's where I'm at. Waiting. It is nice to have a reprieve but without treatment my pain is coming back.

Sam
Sometimes I forget this blog isn't just mine. It's also Sam's journey as well. So here is her update.
She is amazing. We still take her to a neonatologist because she was a preemie but it almost seems like a waste of time because she shows no signs of any delays. If anything, she thinks she is the same as Emily and Will. She wants to try everything they do no matter what the consequence is.
She does not listen to authority. She does what she wants and there's no stopping her.
She is funny. She has this ridiculous personality and she learned at a young age that she can make people laugh.
She is a dancer. If a song comes on she is compelled to dance. She is a singer. She is a song writer. Her latest song is called "Ba Ba Ba". Actually, those are the only lyrics in the song.
Her favorite thing to do is climb on someone's lap and have a book read to her.
She is constantly eating. Seriously, she is a pig.
She is constantly smiling.
She is happy.
She came from such a place of darkness. Between large amounts of drugs being pumped into my body during pregnancy, surviving a grueling surgery while her tiny little body lie asleep from the anesthesia as doctors worked around her to give me a better chance at survival, and the aftermath of painkillers and living in a body that was devastated, depressed, and disconnected.
I know many people call me a fighter. Let's just say I learned from the best.
Sam is the miracle.
Sam is the fighter.

After writing this I'm starting to feel better about today. I'm 39. I remember thinking not long ago that I would never get the chance to hear Sam call me "mamma". I'm grateful that the doctors were wrong about me only having a few months to live. I'm grateful that I've been able to witness so much growth in all of my children. I'm grateful for 39.
Happy birthday to me.
Bring on the cake.

The fog and the wait*This blog was written well over a week ago. I have not been able to share it because I have been very ill. The first dose of the old chemotherapy left me in bed for almost a whole week but the pain...The pain was like nothing I've ever experienced. Two days after treatment my tumors began to hurt. That sounds weird but the pain was coming from every single place I have a growth. It was relentless and round the clock pain meds were only able to take the edge off. I couldn't eat, I couldn't focus on anything, and I felt like there was no light at the end of this. By next treatment I was improving. This past Wednesday was my second dose and so far I am lot better. I just wanted to give a heads up because as much as I'd like to be writing more, it's become mentally and physically challenging.

Patience is not a virtue

So I finally started chemotherapy this week. This was not a smooth transition. This was after waiting a week to decide between chemo or a clinical trial. Then a visit to the ER for mysterious belly pain. At this point I had already decided that I wanted to go back on chemotherapy. My tumors are huge and I think the best bet would be to try and shrink them. The original meds did have a drastic effect on them but once the oxaliplatin was taken out of the mix, my progress seemed to slow. Looking over all the clinical trials most of them required that patients be able to perform light duties in an office or household. It was hard to face, but light duties have become extremely difficult with my pain level. Every day that goes by, pain becomes more and more painful. I haven't taken a pain free breath in months. Last Monday I went to penn practically begging to get started but of course the insurance company had to approve it and then pills would have to be delivered. I asked if there was anything else they could do in the meantime because in my exact words, "every day that goes by I feel like I'm closer to the end". My NP put in a request for an abdominal ultrasound to see if draining fluid in my abdomen was a possibility. She also offered a blood transfusion because my hemoglobin was so low. I ended up getting 3 bags of blood last week and an ultrasound that showed very little fluid but instead, massive tumors causing my discomfort. So this week I am at my wits end. Let's just say there was a lot of back and forth with the medical supply company and if they had it their way, I still would not be getting treated until some time next week. Every single day counts. Every single one. Not only am I racing against the cancer clock I'm racing against the pain one too.
And here is my point I'm trying to make after this long diatribe. Patience, my friends, is not a virtue. When it comes to cancer, being patient can be your biggest downfall. I'm dying. I don't have time to be patient or hope that everyone is doing their jobs efficiently. It is my responsibility to be up everyones' asses and make sure I get what I need when I need it. I apologize a lot to medical professionals for being overbearing but they always reinforce that I'm doing the right thing. I may sound like I'm some bad ass advocate but what you don't see are the times I hang up the phone and cry because I've gotten nowhere or the massive anxiety I experience knowing how many days I still have to go before treatment. The whole process is exhausting and maddening and I worry for those who don't have the physical or mental health to advocate for better treatment.

Back in the saddle again... Or more like a squeaky beige recliner

This past Wednesday I started back on chemotherapy. Because of the prescription company dragging their tail and because of possible severe side effects from the pill version of chemo, I am back on infusions. This time it's an 8 week cycle. I go every week for 6 weeks and then I have 2 weeks off. Every week is the 5fu chemo and every other week is the oxaliplatin ( I'm just realizing how boring all this med talk is. Sorry.) Oxaliplatin is my arch nemesis. It caused most of my horrible symptoms in the beginning and they are already rearing their ugly heads.
Cold sensitivity. Check. Blind spots. Check. Leg cramping. Check. Neuropathy. You betcha. So far these effects are milder than in the past but I know they have a tendency to get worse with each treatment. Fingers crossed. Legs crossed. Eyes crossed.

A chance meeting

I wasn't sure if I was going to share what happened to me last week because it left me a bit shaken. However, if it gives someone in my life a sense of closure then it's worth it.
Last Friday I was at UPenn all day. I had an hour to kill before my blood transfusion so I decided to grab my phone charger from my car. While waiting for the parking garage elevators, I smiled at a man who had just made a joke about someone's phone ringing loudly. He took this opportunity to ask me if I was from New Jersey and proceeded to tell me his story. He was a teacher in Burlington county, he ran into some car trouble, and he needed a few dollars to get home. I told him I didn't have any cash but as we were both waiting for the elevator I proceeded to ask him his name, what school he worked at, and what subject he taught. He got on the elevator going up. And that was it.
But that wasn't it.
Because that wasn't the first time I met this man. The last time I met him was seventeen years ago while I stood outside an elevator in Temple Hospital waiting for my sister to die.
I couldn't believe what just happened. I stood there for a minute debating what to do. Do I just let him go and that's it, do I call security, or do I go find him and rip his face off? This man had plagued me for years. When I look back almost 20 years ago I am able to put the pieces together. He saw me get out of my car in the parking garage. Being a Rowan student I had a giant Rowan sticker on my car. He travelled each floor until he found me. He gave me almost the exact same story except he changed it to really tug at my heartstrings. He was an adjunct professor at Rowan. He was visiting his mom who was dying of cancer (my mom later pointed out that he wasn't even on the cancer floor). And of course, he was having car trouble and needed a few dollars. He got 20 dollars out of us that day. Granted I was 21 years old, but I was not naive. I just didn't want to believe that someone could be that heartless and prey upon people at their weakest moments. Apparently, I was very wrong.
So fast forward and now this same man is preying upon people in a cancer center! And that's when I decided I was not done. I took the elevator up and found him sitting on a bench.
And the following was our conversation:
Me: Can I ask you an honest question?
Jack, or so he says: Sure.
Me: How long have you been doing this?
Jack: Doing what?
Me: Scamming people out of money.
Jack: (Shaking his head) I don't know what you're talking about.
Me: Yes, yes you do. And the reason I know you do is because you did this to me 17 years ago at Temple hospital
Jack: (who is now standing up shaking his head) I've never stepped foot in Temple hospital.
Me: Yes you have. You scammed me out of money. I understand that everyone has to make a living but this is what you chose to do? And for this long?
Jack starts to walk away so I decide to get up and head for the elevator. He then goes and sits down again. As I wait for the elevator I tell him how he scoped out my car last time and that's how he came up with the Rowan idea. How I looked up his name when I got back to school and he didn't exist.
And these were my final words to so called Jack:
"Just so you know, you preyed upon me while my sister was dying and now you are preying upon me while I am dying. If there was ever a day that I wished karma existed, it is today.
Have a nice life."

I felt strong on that elevator but by the time I got back to the office I was a shaking crying mess. The secretary calmed me down and had me report him to security, security then began checking the whole building for so called Jack.

I'm not sure how to take this encounter.
Maybe there is closure.
Maybe someone finally called him out on his evildoings.
Maybe he will never bother anyone at UPenn again.

All I keep thinking is what are the chances?

Today is Sam's birthday.
She was born on a Saturday.
She was 4 pounds 9 ounces.
She was small, but not as small as I expected.
She was having a little trouble breathing.
The wood finish in the delivery room was scratched and a bit outdated. There was a decent view of the city from my window. I remember many faces in the delivery room. I can hear the calmness in the voices that kept telling me what to do and what was happening.
But it was the very last second. That final push. That is what I remember most. Because she was here and in that very second, everything changed. My life changed. My family changed. My cancer changed.
And most importantly, my fight changed.
This is what a year of life has given me.
Motivation: even on the worst of days, there is a baby that needs me. So there is no time to crawl up in bed and feel sorry for myself. She makes me push myself. As hard as raising a baby while battling cancer can be, I constantly think: what if I had to do this without her? What would make me get up and fight?
She has also motivated me to be a better mom to Emily and Will. She is a constant reminder that no matter how old they are, my kids still need me. Thus, they too make me get up and fight.
Mindfulness: throughout my constant research on how to battle cancer or alleviate symptoms, I kept coming across mindfulness. Doctors recommended it to me when I first got diagnosed. UPenn even offers seminars on it, and some of the literature I've come across has suggested it. In the beginning, when I was still pregnant I attempted my own version of mindfulness, but I could never shut off the constant buzzing in my head and it would overtake me and I'd be in a state of panic. Basically, the quiet or the "being in the moment" was a surefire way to light up the neon cancer sign in my head.
Sam changed this.
I am so aware of the moments with her. The simplicity of it all. There isn't a day that goes by that I am not in awe of Sam. It could be the flecks of color in her eyes, or the soft raspiness in her whispers,or every morning when I walk into that nursery and she smiles at me. I melt.
Every single morning.
Starting over: Sam was a total surprise but at one point we entertained the idea of having another kid. Or more like I entertained it and tried to prove why it was a good idea. If mentioned amongst friends or acquaintances the same statement kept coming up: "you would have to start all over again." People would say this with such dread in their voices. And I never understood this. Yes, I would have to start all over again. Isn't that the point? I know they were focusing on the negatives but all I could see was first steps, first words, and getting the privilege of loving another human being unconditionally.
I am head over heels with starting over.
Reinforcement: I have to be honest. Even before my diagnosis I feared how this baby would change my family dynamic. Would Emily and Will feel slighted by a new baby? Would I still have enough quality time with the two of them? We had a good thing going. Did I just mess it up?
Sam has become a reinforcer. She has made our family stronger. For starters, she makes us spend more quality time together and pares things down. Family moments are simple. There is conversation, lots of cuddling, and lots of smiles and laughter.
She reinforces my love for Emily and Will. She is a constant reminder of what they were like as babies. It's like a really cool rewind button. I am constantly reminded of memories and milestones that happened over a decade ago. What's great is that I get to share these memories with Em and Will. I am constantly thinking that it felt like yesterday that they were babies and now they are 12 and 13 and on the verge of adulthood. I am so proud of the people they have become. It blows my mind that they are my children. They were wonderful when they were just wee little children and they continue to grow more amazing with each passing year. Plus, they show me something I never thought I'd experience: their love for Sam. Seriously, it's awesome to see how they interact with her. They are so in love with her and she with them. If you ever want to see the greatest thing on Earth, watch Sam's face when one of them walks into the room.
And then there is her father. When we were just college roommates I asked Billy what he wanted to do with his life. His answer: I want to be a dad. I was baffled by this. Mostly because back then the thought of having children terrified and repulsed me (I've come a long way). But he was so sure of himself and he made me realize that someone who thought of building a family more than building a career was bound to be a great dad. He is not a great Dad. He is the best Dad. And now I get to watch him help mold yet another human into an amazing person. It makes me fall in love with him even more.
Balls, muscles, grit, or whatever the hell you call strength these days: I know some people are not keen on saying they are "battling" cancer but I am totally okay with this phrase. Because, shit, I don't feel like I'm dancing with it or holdings it's hand. It's a fight. I am Rocky Balboa. I may not be the smartest or have the best resources but I'm going to give it my all. I'm going to chase a chicken around or punch a slab of meat because that's all I've got. I'm just realizing that in comparing myself to Rocky, I'm saying that my one year old is my metaphorical Mickey. She's a dead ringer for Burgess Meredith. Okay, where am I going with this? It's a stretch, but I feel like she is in my corner making me fight harder. At the end of the day, I may be beaten down but that little peanut is going to make me work even harder the next day.
Distraction: she has been the greatest distraction of all time. And not just for me, but for everyone around me. She brings smiles in times of sadness. She makes people focus on the good in this world. She gave people a way to lend a hand, be it building her a nursery or taking a babysitting shift. What better way to sweep the idea of death under the carpet than with the gift of a new life?
Resuscitation: Sam brought me back. The day I had major surgery to remove numerous tumors I detached myself from the baby living inside me. Doctors informed me of the many things that could wrong, ranging from having a severely disabled child to losing her completely. They waited a day to check for a fetal heartbeat because the anesthesia would have a longer effect on her. The second they put the ultrasound wand to my belly, she kicked. But as much as I don't like to admit it, I had already checked out. I didn't want to have a baby with issues. At this point in time I was trying to wrap my head around the idea that I most likely only had a few months to live. And I was suffocating on the thought that I was not only leaving Billy to raise our two children, but I would be leaving him with a baby who would most likely have lifelong health problems. So I detached myself from my unborn baby. I couldn't handle the pain. The pain of bringing a child into the world only to suffer. The pain of falling in love with her regardless of the situation, and then having to leave her. The pain of never hearing her say "Mamma". A close friend caught on to my detachment and called me out on it. Even though I had lost my excitement, Emily was beyond thrilled at the idea of having a baby sister and I was holding her back from experiencing this joy. That's when I agreed to allow my coworkers to throw me a baby shower. A team of great friends took Emily in and let her run the shower. She was in her glory and the outpouring of gifts, love, and support made me realize that I had to snap out of it. I slowly started to come along as we organized baby items and her nursery was nearing completion. But it was Sam who resuscitated me. The second she was born something happened to me. It was physical. Like it was out of my control and the animal instinct in me was taking over. The doctors let me hold her for about 5 seconds and then began examining her and giving her oxygen. She had swallowed a good amount of fluid and they prepared me for the fact that putting her on a ventilator was a big possibility. At that moment, I needed her to be okay. Because, simply put, I was in love with her. Those 2 1/2 weeks she spent in the NICU were intense. Every minute away from her felt like knives in my chest. When the nurses let me hold her I would constantly inhale her smell, hoping that it would linger when I left for home. I simply could not get enough of her.
She brought me back to life. She made me connect. She made me want to fight like hell.
Hope: I don't know what the future holds. With each ache and pain, with each falling strand of hair, with each round of chemo...death is there. I cannot escape it. I can try to plead with it or cross my fingers really tight, but there is no way of knowing. I know the natural thing for me would be to wish for a cure. Yet not once have I ever wished for that. I have only wished for one thing: more time. I just want more time. I want to see her grow. I want to love her more. I want her to know that she is loved. I want to see how the adult Emily and Will interact with her. I want to hear her say she loves me. I want more time. I am completely helpless against fate. All I am allowed is hope.
Joy: and then there is this one. Sam has brought me joy. I'm not talking opening a great gift on Christmas or having your team win the Super Bowl. I'm talking about the purest most beautiful form of joy there is. The kind of joy that makes you smile so hard your face hurts. The kind that makes your insides feel giddy and at times like you just might explode. The kind of joy that makes you look past the darkness and see the love and light that we humans are capable of.
This joy is overwhelming.
It is intoxicating.
It is addictive.
And it is never taken for granted.

Gratitude:
Dear Sam,
Happy birthday and thank you.
You have no concept of the love that surrounds you.
You have been the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
You have brought the best out of me and all those around you.
You cannot fathom the joy you have given me.
I am so grateful that you walk this Earth.
I cherish every second I have with you.
I love you.

I can't sleep. I'm scared. I'm angry.I don't want to cancer today.
It's been a rough few months, kids. I haven't received an ounce of good news in terms of my health. The last few weeks have started up my new cancer treatment plan and even though I'm just getting started, I feel like I'm already exhausted.
So here's the lowdown.
No surgery. The surgeon feels like it is too risky to open me up and he wants to let the new chemotherapy drugs take a stab at shrinking these tumors. Granted if I run into other issues like blockages, bleeding, or vomiting, then plans would change.
I can't say I'm pleased with this. My pain has been increasing by the day and it is taking its toll not just physically, but mentally. I have been given an array of pain medications but for the most part I refuse to take them. I know I shouldn't be in pain but no offense, I'm not an elderly woman who can sit around and watch Judge Judy all day (no offense to elderly women or Judge Judy fans. I love you all). The problem is that I have to raise humans. And one of those humans is a bit dependent on me. Ya know for like food, nurturing, and survival. I just can't be whacked out on pain meds while trying to care for a baby. If something happened to her on my watch, I just couldn't bare it. I am starting to give in. I take meds at night because my pain seems get worse as soon as I try to sleep. But last night was a perfect example. Sam woke up numerous times and I had to fight the drowsiness off as best I could. That being said I would like to take a minute to thank the "nap givers". I could not survive this without naps. Thank you to everyone who comes over and lets me sleep and thanks to my own family who has to put life on pause so I can get some shuteye.
My pain sucks right now. I've taken meds and it's done jack squat. And I just keep hearing the same thing over and over in my head: "You're doing it wrong. You didn't listen to what the doctor said. You're taking in all of the static. You're doing it wrong.
Let me explain the static:
Last week I had an endoscopy to check in on my stomach. This is the third endoscopy in the past year, all performed by a wonderful GI doc at UPenn. I was hoping to have a clean slate like last time but no such luck. My tumor grew back. He said it's not as bad as the last time but it's there and it's a pretty decent size. My reaction was, "this sucks".
And I guess he saw it in my eyes. There weren't tears but there was defeat and my return back to where I was a year ago. Me getting ready to say goodbye. Me starting to try and make arrangements and figure things out even thought there is nothing to arrange and nothing to figure out. And he stopped me.
He told me I didn't need to go there.
He talked about how when he became a doctor it was in the frenzy of the AIDS epidemic. He and fellow doctors would put on space suits to take care of these patients because they had no idea what they were dealing with. The only thing they did know was that all of these patients would die. But now fast forward and there is no epidemic. HIV has become a manageable chronic illness. And that's exactly where I want to be. I'm not looking for a cure. I'm just looking for time.
If that story wasn't enough, he broke the 4th wall of doctoring and told us about his own struggle. His wife had been diagnosed with myeloma and given a year and half to live. That was 5 and a half years ago. She gets chemo every week but she is still here.
And then came the static.
He asked Billy and I if he'd ever given us the static lecture. "It's like going to the opera", he said. "You are ready to listen to the performance but the speakers are catching feedback and making a low shrieking noise. And there in lies the choice. You can either focus on the static or sit and enjoy a beautiful piece of music."
Yup, I broke. Tears fell. Not just from my eyes but from Billy's as well. As shitty as the news was, I felt like I was leaving there with something a needed: a gentle reminder that as sucky as life is right now, I still have a choice.
So back to tonight. I'm sleepless and riddled with static. Mostly it's nerves about what's about to transpire. Ladies and gents, I have grasped on to it long enough but I can no longer maintain my hold. The hair is on its way out. I started my new chemo therapy this past Monday. With each new treatment doctors provide you with a laundry list of side effects in case you're not already super pumped as it is. Hypothyroidism, bleeding, high blood pressure, nausea, neuropathy...oh yeah,and hair loss. And which one on the list do you think I decide to focus on? Of course it's the hair. Listen, you haven't seen my head. I am a phrenologist's holy grail. I don't know what happened to me, but my skull is banged up. I have numerous dents and lumps. They are so bad that I have my own parlor trick of resting a small bowl in one of the crevices. So screw the thyroid or whatever else could seriously go wrong. My friggin hair is about to fall out. Priorities!
So yes, I'm wide eyed and I'm fixated on hair loss and pain and I'm letting the static take over. And that's okay. I'm allowed to fail. It's too exhausting to be on the right path all the time.
But I will try and focus on the music. Tomorrow will be bagels with my nieces, dying Easter eggs with the kids, and if I feel like it, I just might shave my head. Out of sight. Out of mind.
The orchestra is warming up.

I'm on a roll
A moldy, crappy, stale-ass roll.
I'd like to get off of it now. 
Please.
I received my latest scan results on Friday. I read over the results and immediately took a nap. This is my mind and body's way of shutting it 
off. 
Getting results are hard.
Telling my family is even harder.
This blog gives me the platform to put it all out there at once and not have to rehash the "so my scans came back..." a million times. Plus, as intimate as I can be in writing, there is some distance. You can't hear the deep breaths I have to take before calling my mom or the crack in my voice when I'm talking to my Dad. You're not there when Billy comes and puts his hand on me, allowing me to let it out and go through the "I don't want to die" routine. Sorry you don't get that, but you can't have that. 
That is mine.
That is ours.

Things are not looking so hot. 
I still have the spot on my peritoneum but now it's been joined by smaller nodules. It's spreading. 
I'm sad. I'm scared. I'm angry. 
But I'm mostly sad.
On top of the peritoneal seeding, as it is termed, I have 2 substantial masses in my abdomen. One is large measuring almost 6x6 cm. When I first read the scan and saw these masses I was completely floored. I thought they had just appeared out of nowhere, but reviewing prior scans  I noticed they had been there for quite some time. However, they are growing rapidly. The one thing I was able to piece together is that despite their size, they have never lit up on previous scans, meaning they haven't shown cancerous activity. I am convinced that these are the source of my abdominal pain and I'm not sure where that leaves me. The pain is continually getting worse.
Today I went to UPenn to discuss the results with my doctor. I met with another doctor first. He asked me if I saw my scans. I replied with, "Yes, and I'm not happy with them." He responded with, " We are not happy with them either." My heart sank and even though he had a lot more to add, I just kept hearing that one line over and over again in my head.
Next up was my doctor. I have to say after talking with him I felt a little better, but not by much. 

So what now?
Well, my chemo regimen is out. It's obviously not cutting the mustard. What the hell does cutting the mustard mean? I'm digressing. Anyway, new chemo meds will be introduced in a week or two. He called them the second line of defense. 
I don't want seconds. 
I want firsts.
There was also talk about going in and possibly debulking the cancerous areas or at least getting rid of the large growth to ease my pain. They need to discuss this with a surgeon before making any decisions.

Live life like it's your last day and then bite me, because nobody's buying that crap.
I feel a bit empty.
I feel like my life is a never ending shit show.
I feel like it's time to get off this roll, this storm cloud, or continual chain of  bad luck. No words of wisdom or joy this time around, kids. Things suck right now and I'm allowing myself to have this moment of sadness. I can't buy into the inspirational quotes or "pick myself up from my boot straps" bullshit. Embracing the pain and the fear today. And I'm going to just focus on the title of this blog because that's all I can do:
Fingers crossed.

More poop and turds:
So I'm writing this from my hospital bed. I was admitted to UPenn early Tuesday night after a long hellish night in the ER. Luckily I should be breaking out of here today.
These past few weeks my house has been a den of disease. First, Billy got sinusitis and then Em caught his cold. I followed suit and struggled with battling an upper respiratory infection during chemo week. It kicked my ass. I contemplated going to the ER last Saturday because I was so weak and winded. However, I perked up and thought I was on the road to recovery. Monday I went for a CT scan and had my counts checked because I still felt a little off and wanted to make sure it was safe for me to get my endoscopy on Wednesday. I was given the okay. Early morning, like 3 am early, Will appeared at the side of my bed. He was the latest victim of the cold. Sam followed suit, waking up a boogery mess. So having not slept very well, I just assumed I was exhausted. But my stomach pain was relentless and it felt different. I finally cracked Tuesday afternoon and took painkillers but it barely took the edge off and the pain rapidly increased after eating lunch. And then the nausea hit. And then the joint pain started. And then I knew I was screwed.
I need Dr. House:
For those of you who know me well, you might have personally experienced one of these Lauren Raney mystery illnesses. Over the past decade I have had around 10 of these weird bouts that have landed my ass in the ER. They have caused a lot of gray hairs to appear on my dear husband's head. Here is a shortened version of this ridiculousness: I start to come down with a cold or stomach bug and I get violently ill within a couple hours. My body starts to shake and I get unbearable pain in all of my joints. My spine feels like it's curling and I can't stand up straight because it hurts so bad.
And then I puke.
And then I pass out.
And then I become delirious.
I end up in the ER extremely dehydrated and in pain. These episodes are usually remedied with a lot of fluids and pain and antivomiting meds. The following days my body is weak and exhausted and despite all the tests they run, no one knows why this happens. The only legitimate theory is that my immune system overreacts to a common illness. No matter what the cause, these episodes have scared the shit out of my family members and at times taken a financial toll on us as well.
Luckily, I have gone about 3 or 4 years without having an episode so I was devastated when I felt it coming on Tuesday night. I was scared because I never experienced one of these while having cancer and I had it in my head that I wanted to get to UPenn instead of the local ER. Let's just say, it was a long ride for me and for Billy. Halfway there, the puking started. Now without fail, I always pass out after vomiting. This is such a known fact, that even fellow coworkers know the drill. If I go down they need to lift my legs in the air to get the blood back to my core. So here is the one perk in all this madness. I came close, but I managed to stay conscious. Woohoo! How sad is it that Billy was saying "Good job, baby" after the pukefest. He was probably so relieved that I didn't pass out in the random parking lot we pulled into.
I live such a glamorous life.
Also if you're wondering, I have a major fear of vomiting now. I'd call it a phobia but phobias are irrational fears and I think this fear is pretty damn rational. Is it considered irony that the woman terrified of vomiting gets stomach cancer? Or is it just the worst luck in the world? Okay, I don't even care what it is, because it sucks no matter what. Let's get back to the madness.
Poop and turds continued:
So I spent a long ass time sitting in a wheelchair in Penn's ER. It was awful. It was insanely crowded and even the nurses said this was abnormal for a Tuesday night. Once I got a bed, tests were run, meds and fluids were administered, and ultrasounds of my heart and abdomen were performed. Let me just say that although the wait was awful, the nurses and doctors were amazing. They were so thorough, so accommodating, and so kind. Trust me, it was worth the puke ride there. So basically my abdomen looked fine. My bloodwork came back pretty normal besides an expected low white blood cell count and low potassium. My biggest issue was my low blood pressure and the fevers I started running as soon as I got there. They assumed my issues were viral but they wanted to make sure there wasn't an underlying infection. Being immunosuppressed, I don't have the ability to fight these things off. Blood cultures take about 48 hours to come back and the idea was to get my pressure stabilized, my fever under control, and see what my tests reveal.
I am a thousand times better.
I just got the word that I'll be out of here soon.
Remaining thoughts and feelings:
UPenn is wonderful. From the doctors to housekeeping, they are amazing. I asked Billy yesterday, "have you ever met a mean person here" and of course his answer was no. I don't know what they do to make their employees so happy and helpful, but other companies should seriously look into this.
This is the longest I've been away from Sam. Last year was so hard being away from Em and Will for weeks. It broke me. I've been away from Sam for two days and my heart hurts just thinking about her.Last night I heard someone's kid crying down the hallway. I started to cry. I miss her face and her smell.
Having a roommate in the hospital sucks but not for the reasons you may think. Yes, there's no privacy and Billy has to sit on my bed because my side of the room is so tiny, but these really aren't my issues. The issue is that the woman next to me is breaking my heart. I'm not exactly sure what happened to her but let's just say the simplest tasks most of us can do are impossible for her. Cancer patient here, feeling grateful that I can feed myself and go to the bathroom on my own.
I'm angry. This is getting ridiculous. I really tried to perk up after my last post and change my outlook. I was on the right road and then the sick car sideswiped me. This isn't fair. It's also really not fair for my husband. How much more can he possibly take? Mind you, he is still trying to get used to his new job and we all know how stressful that alone can be. Thankfully his company has been so supportive and understanding about all of this, but it still doesn't take away the fact that he is a hard worker and he doesn't want to miss anything. Plus, he has to handle most of the Raney household duties. Calgon, take him away...
Final thought:
Today is my sister's birthday. She would have turned 45 today. On this 17 years ago, she was in her hospital bed unresponsive. She died three days later. My mom had been planning to throw her a surprise birthday party. She was such a sneak, so I'm hoping that she somehow found out about it. I've always had faith that she did.
It is not fair to my parents that I ended up in the hospital around this time. They have already gone through so much trauma. To see their other daughter shipped off to a Philly hospital is a bit too reminiscent of what they went through almost 20 years. Enough is enough.
I lost a lot in the month of March. A sister, a grandmother, and my childhood pet. Despite all of this and my current shitty ass situation, I refuse to let it overcome me. I celebrate Susan today. She made me laugh. She pushed harder than anyone has ever pushed me. I hope I have made her proud. I feel her all around me, especially when I look at Emily.
I ask that if you knew her, please share a Susan story. Be it with me, or a family member, or a complete stranger. Let her light live on.
Here is my Susan story I share with you today:
When we were younger, Susan and I loved to play boardgames with each other. We were extremely competitive. We played Monopoly a lot. She always insisted on being the banker. I didn't care, because I had no desire to count the money. Interestingly enough, she always won. It took me a few decades to realize she was always cheating. Every time I think of this, I smile.

Sorry for the hardcore curse words but I am really fricking frustrated.
Right now I am in bed with Sam. She will not go to sleep. She is being unbelievably cute thus making it hard to be frustrated with her. However, I am finding myself frustrated over everything. Or as I defined it last blog: I am completely and utterly frustressed.
Cleaning house:
So I finally found a book I am totally into. It's called the The Life-Changing method of Tidying Up. Within the first few pages I learned why I am a sucky cleaner and organizer. It was like the book was personally written for me. Anyway, ever since I got my cancer diagnosis I have had such an unbearable urge to purge things in my life. I will admit it. I originally wanted to purge because I was terrified of dying and leaving so much crap for my family to deal with. And trust me, I have so much crap! Now I just feel that I am stuck home sick and the mess and the clutter swallowed me up. I don't get out much so I need the place I live in to be comfortable and relaxing and it's not. So back to the book. I immediately jumped in headfirst. I took notes I followed the rules of tidying up verbatim and even though it was emotionally trying, I felt good and it felt right. So why am I mentioning this? Because life with an illness, a baby, and a family suck up every little bit of time and energy I have. Even though I wanted to, I couldn't even finish the first stage of the tidying process. I feel like I am always falling behind, be it keeping up with friends, attempting a better diet, getting enough rest, or on some days just taking a shower. I figure this is something relatable to all of you. Well for some the cancer part might not be an issue, but for some it is,and I truly wish it wasn't.
Yesterday was chemo:
Last week I was sent home with none because I had a crappy cold and some killer laryngitis. On top of this I have had increasing abdominal pain over the last few months. This happened to me towards the end of the first 12 treatments but it wasn't as severe and it eventually faded. My belly hurts when I get out of bed, roll over, laugh, cough. Basically any time I move. I can deal with pain but I cannot deal with not having answers. And I truly don't want to think that it's spreading. I want to believe it's adhesions or lack of exercise or a hernia. I want to. But there is always that thought. Every little ache and pain whispers "it's spreading " to your anxiety-filled brain. Pure evil. And how do you stop it? Distractions are all fine and dandy, but when there is downtime, they come back. They always come back.
Fast forward:
I'm sick again. But this time they still let me get chemo. Basically I sucked it up because I don't want to have to postpone my testing. My abdominal pain has gotten worse over the last few weeks. And I have caught yet another cold that my family has been sharing. I'm getting no answers about my pain and next Monday's CT scan seems to be the only chance I will have for them to find something. I get that they can't give me any answers right now but sometimes I feel like I'm the only one trying to guess at possible sources of the pain (i.e. Surgical adhesions, a hernia, my ovaries growing back! Apparently in rare instances they can do that and if you know anything about me, I would be the freak this would happen to). My nurse practitioner and my mother also pointed out that most cancer patients aren't lugging 20 pound babies around all day long. And granted I have a lot of help, but I know they're right. There is this constant struggle between what my body can physically handle and what my mommy instinct can bear. It sucks.
I'm angry today.
I'm coughing up balls of mucus.
My abdomen is shot.
And I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I can't.
I'm trying to find the silver lining but I'm looking around my room at piles and piles of crap and it's stressing me out. I'm failing at the life-changing art of tidying up and I know people are constantly offering to help but I want to do it. And I can't.
Ggrrrr.
I need a fairy tale ending, quickly!:
I do not like the tone of this post at all. I know I need to vent but I like to end with at least one positive message or pearl of wisdom and I'm struggling.
You know what? Maybe this is my pearl of wisdom. Simply put, some days just truly suck. I think I've had a pretty long string of them lately and I'd like for them to stop now. Yes, that's it. Some days just suck. And you don't even need to have cancer to relate to that!
You're welcome, young grasshopper.
Dr. Phil ain't got shit on me.
Calgon, take me away....